


wouldn't mind at all

by alleyesonthehindenburg



Series: Lessons Learned [2]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Body Positivity, Body Worship, Mild Smut, Multi, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 15:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alleyesonthehindenburg/pseuds/alleyesonthehindenburg
Summary: Five times Peg calls Hawkeye beautiful, and one time Hawkeye (kind of) believes her





	wouldn't mind at all

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onekisstotakewithme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/gifts).



> this wouldn't be a thing without onekisstotakewithme, so here's to you, dear ♥

**1.**

She has an inkling from the very first time BJ writes ‘our Hawkeye’ in a letter home.

They’d talked about it before, had come to an agreement, even if Peg hadn’t expected it to come up again so soon. Then again, there were a lot of things she hadn’t expected. Korea, for one. She was the one who brought it up, ultimately. _Come home_ , she told him. _Whatever it takes. Come home._

Whatever it takes, as it turns out, is Hawkeye Pierce. Peg knows what BJ Hunnicutt in love looks like, even with military censors and thousands of miles between them. She reads between the lines, reads the _I love him_ s between the _I love you_ s, and knows them both to be true. The letters are full of noise and laughter and quiet strength on awful nights, and she thinks she might be falling a little bit too.

She can tell BJ’s nervous, that his need to keep the ones he loves safe – that’s both her and Hawkeye, now – has him on edge, and she reassures him the only way she knows how. _Send me pictures_ , she writes, _of all the things you find beautiful over there, so I can admire them too._ The next envelope she receives from Korea is stuffed full of photographs, the whole 4077 in black and white, but there’s one face that appears over and over again. Her favourite is a picture of the two of them, wrapped up in each other, mouths open wide mid-laugh. BJ is grinning at the camera while Hawkeye looks off to the side, so completely comfortable in her husband’s arms; she closes her eyes, imagines herself in the warmth of that embrace, and it’s surprisingly easy to envision a second set of arms around her.

The first time Peggy Jane meets her husband’s lover is on a cloudy Mill Valley afternoon in October. Erin is at her grandmother’s house, and BJ went to the airport alone. She’s left with nothing to do but pace the kitchen nervously, pretend to be paying any attention at all to the meatloaf in the oven (it’s meatloaf, the whole point is she doesn’t have to think about it).

They’ve all got so much riding on this meeting. She doesn’t doubt that BJ will put her first, if it comes to it – put Erin first – but they’ve already lost so damn much to this godawful war. Every scrap of happiness will have to be wrested out of her hands. Hawkeye Pierce is hers now, sight unseen. There’s space for this. There’s space in her.

At last, she hears the low rumble of the car on the driveway. Bravery is a learned trait, she tells herself, and steps outside.

BJ is shutting the driver’s side door, and she takes a moment to revel in the sight of him, tall and golden even in the dim light. This is who she married. This is who she trusts. She can trust him in this, too, and she keeps that in mind as he turns to face the man coming round the other side of the car. Hawkeye’s steps are slow and heavy with nerves. He’s greyer than she expected, though no wonder given what he’s been through, and so skinny she’s a bit worried about the wind coming in from over the bay. It’ll take more than a meatloaf to sort that out.

Her feet carry her forward, and before she knows it she’s standing tiptoe to wrap him in a hug. He manages a shaky laugh, and then his voice is in her ear, a murmur of “Peggy Jane, you’re even more beautiful in person.”

“So are you,” she says honestly, leaning back to get a proper look at him. His eyes are bright and blue, and he brought her BJ home alive, and she can’t think of anything more beautiful.

The meatloaf is burnt by the time they get around to dinner, but she doesn’t think anyone minds.

 

**2.**

Peggy Jane, it turns out, is a happy drunk.

BJ has the late shift at the hospital, and Hawkeye’s already put Erin to bed by the time Peg gets back from her girls’ night, giggling and almost stumbling as she takes off her heels. “Oh, there you are,” she trills, as his arms come around her to keep her upright. “There’s your nose.”

“There’s my nose.” He’s grinning wide even as he steadies her, herding her into the kitchen. “Have a bit to drink, Peggy dear?”

“Since I was eighteen? Just a little bit.”

Hawk feigns a laugh, teasing but not unkind, propping her up in a chair as he goes to fetch her a glass of water. She props her head up on her hand, watching him with a soft smile on her face. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

“And you’re so drunk,” he says, putting the water on the table before her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Even after a long day out, he can smell the faint grapefruit scent of her shampoo. “Drink that and I’ll take you up to bed, okay?”

“Only if you come with me.” She accentuates with a waggle of her eyebrows, and Hawkeye laughs, clapping a hand to his mouth to silence his hyena cackle.

“Not unless you can spell my full name,” he says, and she scowls theatrically.

“It’s a long name.”

“Exceptionally extensive.”

“Wanna make it longer?”

It takes a moment for him to get what she’s saying, and the giggle stumbles in his throat at the rush of longing he’s hit with. “Let’s get you to bed,” he manages, and she acquiesces with a sigh, standing only to dramatically fall into his arms.

“Carry me,” she demands, and his laugh this time is softer and full of fondness.

By the time he sets her down on the covers, the giddiness has succumbed to tiredness, and she yawns wide, already pulling down the covers. “Hey, come on, at least brush your teeth first,” Hawkeye says, nudging her in the direction of the ensuite. She groans, but hauls herself off the bed, pausing for Hawk to undo the zipper before she unabashedly steps out of her dress, putting a bit of sway into her hips, and he can’t help but watch.

He hears the shower turn on, and by the time she gets back, clad in her favourite pink nightgown, he’s pulled the covers down proper and set a glass of water on the nightstand. “Better than a hotel,” she declares, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she settles into bed. He switches the lamp off, turns to leave, and she sits up, brow creased. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be just downstairs.”

“But I want you to sleep with me.”

“Peggy Jane, not until you can spell my preposterously prolonged name, remember?”

“Not like that. Come on, I want to cuddle.”

That’s – that’s a hell of an idea, honestly. But... “But the kitchen lights…”

“BJ can take care of it.” She holds her hands out to him, expression warm, and says, “Sleep with me, baby.”

And, god, how can he say no to that? Not even he is that much of a fool. He lets her grab his hand, scooting back as she tugs him to join her under the covers. He’s already in his own pyjamas, a fact that she exploits shamelessly, running her hands under his shirt as she shuffles close, resting her head on his chest. He curls in as close as he can, her head tucked under his chin, and delights in the warmth of her.

She wiggles impossibly closer, running her hand over his tummy (not as flat as it was a few months ago, but he tries not to think about that) and presses her lips to his neck, soft and sweet. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers. “Love you, Hawkeye.”

He swallows down the unexpected lump in his throat, and the less-unexpected denial, and whispers back, “Love you, Peggy Jane.”

 

**3.**

It’s an unusually warm day for San Francisco in the summer, and Peg half-wishes she was out hiking – in the Headlands, maybe, overlooking the bay – but this is just as good. Erin’s perched on Hawkeye’s shoulders, squealing at all the exotic animals as they wander about the zoo, and he seems just as excited as she is. They’re gonna be trouble when Erin’s older, she’s sure of it.

She lets herself fall behind, enjoying the sight of her sweetheart with her daughter. BJ’s going to join them as soon as he can, but she enjoys these moments too, watching the two newest members of their family having fun. When that draft notice came in the mail, Peg prayed for the best, but she never dared imagine that they’d come out of this war with more love than they had going in.

They’ve finally reached the lion pen, Erin’s favourite, and Peg settles onto a bench nearby. They’ll be here for a while. She’s brought a little notepad for just this purpose, and she starts sketching idly, only paying half a mind as the chubby features of the local pigeons come into form. It’s not very good. Drawing is something she’s only recently started, and she’s never satisfied with the outcome. She has an image in her head, a picture she wants to draw someday, of BJ and Hawkeye sat around a tiny table, solemnly drinking the imaginary tea Erin serves them. At this rate, though, Erin will have grown out of that phase by the time her skills are up to par.

“This seat taken?”

Peg grins, flipping her notebook shut as she looks up. God, he’s tall. “No, but my husband might get jealous.”

“I think I could take him,” BJ says, slinging an arm over her shoulder as she settles in beside her. “Lions?”

“Lions.”

He hums, his gaze growing distant and smile growing softer, fonder as he watches Hawkeye point the big cats out to Erin, clearly sharing in her enthusiasm. Peg scooches a bit, rests her head on his shoulder, and he presses a kiss to her hair.

“I love our family,” Peg says.

“I do too. God, I do too. Aren’t they beautiful?”

Once upon a time, Peg thought she couldn’t hear BJ speak that way about anyone else without drowning in jealousy; then Erin came along, and then Hawkeye. “They really are,” she whispers. Hawkeye makes an exaggerated silly face, and Erin squeals in delight. “So beautiful.”

It’s at that moment that Hawkeye hauls Erin up onto his shoulders again, despite her protests, and hightails it over to them. “Hey Beej! Let’s go see penguins now, okay?”

“Wanna see more lions,” Erin complains, and Hawk shakes his head vehemently, passing her over to BJ.

“The lions are playing now, so let’s – penguins!”

Peg peers around him, curious, and then claps a hand to her mouth. BJ follows her gaze, and his laugh rings out as he sees it too.

 _Playing_. That’s one way of putting it.

 

**4.**

An oral fixation, BJ calls it. Hawkeye doesn’t know if he’d go quite that far, but there’s no denying that he adores the taste of his lovers in his mouth, gets a thrill from taking them apart with just his tongue. (He fantasises sometimes about just kneeling at BJ’s feet with his cock in his mouth, but that’s _weird_ , he knows, and he pushes the thought down as best he can.)

Still, giving head isn’t the only way to put his mouth to use, and there’s something deeply intimate about just kissing. And that’s why, even with Peggy wet and desperate for him, one hand gripping his hair as she whines, he keeps going up for more. She’s so pretty like this, so pretty always. and he can’t help himself. Her lips are a balm to his anxiety when he wakes in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Pigmented paradise, he told her once. She laughed, but he wasn’t joking.

Peg groans in relief as he works his way downward again, pressing kisses to her breasts and belly and hips, but he hesitates again as he reaches her cunt. God, the look of it, but –

He goes up to kiss her again, but this time her fingers tighten their grip on his hair. “Hawkeye, _please_ ,” she moans, and it’s no great hardship to comply, dipping his head to lick a stripe up her pussy. The slick of it feels good on his tongue, filthy and addicting. He can lose himself in this, in the sharp, satisfied gasps Peggy is making, her hips twitching up as he works.

Her hand finds his hair again, petting this time instead of pulling, and it’s a soothing counterpoint to the intensity of what they’re doing, the ache of his hard cock. He lets himself be lulled by it, almost doesn’t hear when she whispers, “God, Hawkeye, you’re so pretty like this, you darling man.”

The prickle in his eyes is unexpected, but he lowers his gaze, recommitting himself to his task with determination. Fuck, what is it with these Hunnicutts, always calling him pretty and beautiful and all of these ridiculous things? He trusts by now that BJ really believes it, but women have different sensibilities, and that’s fine.

It’s sweet that she says it anyway, and he resolves to brush his teeth as soon as they’re done so he can kiss her thanks.

 

**5.**

Hawkeye’s skin is warm beneath her hand as she sinks into him, shuffling forward on her knees to get a better angle. His abdomen is still shaking with laughter at their first failed attempt, but his nose is scrunched as she carefully pushes in, and he breathes out in a loud sigh as she bottoms out, his head flopping back onto the pillows.

“Okay?”

He hums an affirmative, wiggling his hips. She knows he can take bigger than her silicone cock – BJ’s plenty big – but she still gives him a moment to adjust, pressing a kiss to the knee that’s flung over her shoulder. He snorts, and Peg takes that as her cue to give an experimental thrust. The low moan she gets feels like a prize, and she grins, leaning up on her haunches to get better leverage.

“You’re a marvel,” Hawk whispers, and she flushes red, getting her hips into a rhythm. With his legs slung over her shoulders, there’s nothing he can do but take it, and she can tell from the way he shivers that she’s doing it right.

“So are you,” she says. She feels deliciously powerful like this, looming over him as he looks up at her with adoration, and she can’t give him a proper kiss from this position but she settles for reaching down to stroke his cock. He fits perfectly in her hand, small and pretty (she never knew a cock could be so pretty) and the involuntary little jerk of his hips gives her a thrill. “It feels alright?”

“Actually, I think I’m more of a size 9,” he deadpans, cackling as Peg rolls her eyes.

“Are you comparing this to _shoe shopping_ ?” She feigns offence, timing it perfectly so that when Hawk goes to make some snarky response, her thrust just brushes his sweet spot, and his words are lost in a breathy moan. Peg giggles, giddy with power and with the power he’s giving her _over_ him. He whines protest as she shakes his knees from her shoulders, but she leans forward, resting one palm on his chest as she presses a kiss to his nose. “You’re beautiful like this.”

“You’re a goddess,” he whispers back, using his newfound leverage to roll his hips up into hers, and they find a rhythm between them. “Fuck, Peggy Jane.”

“Language,” she says, and it earns a laugh; there’s no doubt that she’s the most vulgar of the three of them. She brushes her lips against his nipple, delighting in the little gasp it gets her. God, he’s lovely. Her teeth scrape carefully on the soft flesh of his chest, and she resists the urge to bite down, make a mark. This is softer than that, right now, and she settles for the pale pink of what’s left of her lipstick smeared across his pecs. “Fucking gorgeous, Ben Franklin. Look at you.”

His cheeks are stained red, and she’s not sure if it’s the pegging or the praise, but it’s a good look on him. He clears his throat, his voice breathy when he speaks. “My friends call me Hawkeye.”

“My Hawkeye, beautiful Hawkeye,” she whispers, dipping her head down to kiss him again, and his lips taste so sweet under hers.

 

**+1.**

Peg’s woken at some ungodly hour by a bristly kiss being pressed to her forehead, and she yawns, snagging BJ’s collar without looking to pull him down for a proper kiss. “Morning,” she mutters. “The fuck are you doing up?”

“I’ve got work today.”

Hawkeye stirs next, poking his head out from under the covers, blinking at them bleary-eyed. “‘s happening?”

“BJ has work.”

“I was trying not to wake you,” BJ says reproachfully, like it’s their fault that his moustache tickles. Maybe they do deserve a share of the blame, now that Peg thinks about it. If they had any good sense, they’d have forced him to shave ages ago.

(Then again, that means they would be deprived of that unbelievable sensation on the inside of their thighs. Some sacrifices have to be made.)

In the meanwhile, BJ presses another kiss to Peg’s forehead, and goes around the other side of the bed to give Hawk a proper seeing-to. She watches through half-closed eyes, appreciating the pink swollenness of Hawk’s lips when they part. “See you later, beautiful,” BJ says, and Hawk grins so softly and sincerely that it takes Peg’s breath away.

It leaves her feeling hollow when BJ leaves, and she sits up even as Hawkeye nuzzles into the pillow, eyes drifting shut. “Sweetheart,” she whispers, and Hawk grunts, rolling over to look up at her. “Can we talk?”

He wakes up fast at that, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. She wiggles down beside him before he can sit up, resting a hand on his belly. It’s not so easy to count his ribs nowadays. She’s glad of it, and knows BJ’s been paying attention too. Hawk squirms a bit, clearly wary. “What’s up, Peggy Jane?”

She chews her lip, wondering how to start. For a moment, she second-guesses herself – it’s not a big deal, anyway, it doesn’t matter – but she steers herself away from that line of thought. This, this thing between the three of them, it needs the most solid foundation it can get. Nothing’s too small. “I was wondering,” she says, “about – well, it’s silly.”

Hawk grabs her hand and brings it up to his lips, planting a kiss on her fingers. “Never.”

She can’t help but smile, squeezing his hand. “Okay. I just, I noticed – you don’t look like… like you believe it, when I call you beautiful. Not like you do with BJ, anyway.”

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. “Oh,” he says smartly. “Oh, well, I mean –”

“I’m not upset.” Peg brings her free hand up to poke his nose playfully. “I’d just… like to know.”

He seems at a loss for words for a moment, idly playing with her fingers. “I um, I didn’t believe BJ, at first.”

“But you do now.”

“Yeah, I mean… I believe he thinks so.”

“But you don’t think I do?”

“Peg…” He shrugs, cheeks reddening.

She strokes a finger down his cheek, tapping his lips lightly. “I really just want to understand, Hawkeye. I promise I don’t take it personally.”

It’s a little bit of a lie – how can she not take it personally, when she sees how he melts into BJ? But she knows that she and Hawkeye have to build this thing between them from scratch. There’s no late nights in the Stanford library to force them together, no war to make them cling to each other. It’s just them.

“I don’t…” He sighs. “BJ’s Beej, you know? He’s crazy. So maybe his taste in men isn’t as good as his taste in women. But you don’t – it’s okay.”

She blinks, more confused now than anything. “I don’t what?”

“Peg,” he says gently, “I know I’m not exactly the Prince Charming any woman dreams about.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

He stares at her, incredulous, and groans, rolling onto his back. “God! What, does it come with the name? You and BJ both, I swear.”

“There’s a training seminar before the wedding,” she says, thwapping him lightly with the back of her hand. “Come on! What are you talking about?”

“Peg, I have tits as big as you do!”

She glances down at her chest on reflex, surprised. She’s never been particularly large in that department, even after she had Erin, and Hawkeye’s definitely exaggerating. But she sees what he means, kind of – his pecs are fleshier than the average man’s, maybe, and not hard muscle like BJ’s. There’s a bit of her that can’t help but be offended. She _likes_ his chest. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that to work with,” she says dryly. Best to fight fire with fire, after all.

(Not really, though. She’s never understood that saying. This is California, she knows a thing or two about fires, but – no, she’s really getting off track, here. Back to the matter at hand.)

“I’m not Gene Kelly, Peggy,” Hawk says, as if _she’s_ the one being slow, and she snorts. Suddenly one of the letters BJ wrote her before the war ended makes more sense – _I’m hoping to bring Hawkeye home with me, Pegs, if you don’t mind. He’s not a carbon copy of Gene Kelly, but I think we’ll both survive._

 _I prefer Donald O’Connor anyway_ , she wrote back.

Dammit.

“I know you’re not Gene Kelly.” She sits up properly, poking Hawkeye in the chest (his perfectly handsome, soft chest). “I didn’t ask BJ to bring me home a Gene Kelly, I asked him to bring me home something much better.”

Hawk’s cheeks are turning red as he sits up to look her in the eye. “Peg – I know you love me, okay?”

She’s not so certain about that, sometimes, but she’s willing to let it go for now. “But you think I don’t think you’re beautiful.”

“Peg –”

“And we’ve covered the size of your tits already, so you’re going to have to come up with something else.”

“Actually, I don’t think you commented on my – my tits.”

She giggles, and then schools her face into something serious. They really need to stop referring to Hawkeye’s pecs as tits. “Okay,” she says. “How about this. I like your chest, you dummy. It’s soft and makes a comfy pillow, and it’s – it’s _you_ . It’s all you. I – wait, here, hold on.” She scrambles off the bed to the closet, and comes back with a hat box in her arms. She puts it on the bed between them, and opens it to reveal all the photos BJ sent her, each and every one. Judging by the look on Hawkeye’s face, he hadn’t known. “Back when all we had was the letters, and BJ couldn’t say much because of the censors, I asked him to send me pictures of all the beautiful things over there. I was asking for pictures of _you_ , Hawkeye.”

“My nose isn’t _that_ big,” he protests, holding up a photo of Klinger, and she rolls her eyes.

“Obviously he can’t send me just a bunch of pictures of his male bunkmate, and I wanted to see everyone, besides. But especially you, Hawkeye. I’d already decided you were beautiful before I ever saw your face, and then…” She finds her favourite, the one of him and BJ laughing, and holds it up triumphantly. “Your smile and the look on your face, god. And your silky hair – _whatever_ colour it is,” she says, when he pats at the salt-and-pepper locks self-consciously. “Your nose is so cute I want to nibble on it. And then he brought you home, and… the first time I saw you without a shirt on, fresh out of the shower, I thought, Margaret Jane Hunnicutt, if you don’t tap that, you’ve failed all of your foremothers.”

He laughs at that, his hyena cackle doubling him ever, and she joins in after a moment. “I’m not _wrong_ ,” she says, tipping his chin up to look at her, and oh – she doesn’t think all of those tears are from laughing too hard. “God, I love you, Hawkeye Pierce. And you’re beautiful to me no matter what; your face is just a bonus.”

“You’re an angel, Peggy Jane,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss her, slow and deep.

She’s heavy-lidded when they finish, smirking like the cat that caught the cream. “I am indeed. Any further objections, Dr. Pierce?”

“Small cock,” he offers, but it’s a token protest and she knows it by the grin on his face.

“All the better to lick on, my dear,” she says, and swallows his cackle in another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song 'but beautiful'
> 
> the photo that's Peg's favourite is an actual picture of Alan and Mike, and you can find it [here](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/539995594178035732/550014525194240000/unknown.png)!


End file.
